


Winter With You

by DyslexicTrashWriter



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Evermore - Freeform, F/M, One Shot, Winter Fics, short but sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicTrashWriter/pseuds/DyslexicTrashWriter
Summary: Somethings were never meant to be
Relationships: Yamamoto Takeshi/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. 'Tis the Damn Season

It’s not that you were looking for him. But your parents had a habit of inviting the whole town to these kind of things. And “the whole town” made up of like 50 people. Packed into the small town hall of your community every winter like it was a god damn ritual. And if you didn't attend, the shame, the _shame_ it would bring to your family. Never mind you were barely paid any attention when you did come back for the holidays, but that was a different story. 

“Shalom!” Yamamoto Takeshi says as he catches your eye from across the wall of the community parking lot. He knew all too well how you needed a break from the party, excusing yourself to go outside under the pretence of finding cell phone signal.

“Hey.” You say, taking your time and pretending to be finishing up a very important text on your phone. “You still come to these things?” You ask, realising your dress has _zero_ pockets and opting instead to awkwardly cram your phone in the same hand as your drinks glass while you bow to your friend.

“Yeah!” Yamamoto laughs, that lopsided, beaming smile towards you as he leans against the brick wall of the community hall in an attempt to act nonchalant. You chuckle and shake your head, despite what you’d told yourself about moving on and not being of the same breed as all your home town friends, it was nice to see his face again. “Besides, someone’s got to help my old man pack up all this stuff after your party.” He says, looking back at the fire exit door as if sensing his dad, undoubtedly immersed in slicing cucumber as thinly as humanly possible. You smile, despite trying not to. A comfortable silence fills the air as both of you look up at the starts, the night sky was never the same from the city.

“You taking over your dad’s business then?” You ask, dropping one hand with the phone in it and bringing your champagne glass to your lips. Making a small, friendly attempt to keep the conversation going.

Yamamoto laughs, in that easy going water off a ducks back way he always does that puts you at ease. “Something like that.” He chuckles.

It’s cold enough outside that you can see your breath, foggy and crisp as you look up at the winter night sky. “So, what it’s gonna be this time?” He asks.

You look at him, a knowing smirk growing on your face as you try to play it demurely. “I don’t know” you reply. “The back of your truck?” You say, half-jokingly.

You were half joking, but that doesn’t account for the other half of your comment. The other half that leads to you cuddling into Yamamoto Takeshi on a Saturday morning.

“Pancakes?” He asks, as you lay on his chest and feel the warmth of his heartbeat.

“Maybe.” You say, nuzzling into this chest to hide your face. It’s highly possible you’re hungover and too groggy to process the fact you’ve done this _again._ After you assured yourself coming home didn’t mean you’d fall into old home habits.

“Or do you not want me to leave bed just yet?” Yamamoto teases, a firm warm hand coming round to cup the side of your back.

“Mmhmm” You say, indiscriminately as you pretend that’s enough of an answer. Food could wait, it’d been a while since you’d had another human being so close.

Another day, and you tell your parents you’re seeing a friend. It’s not untrue. The smell of a homecooked lunch tempts your attention as you send the text. You don’t know how Yamamoto Takeshi affords such a nice place, just outside of your hometown, but asking would be far more than you were willing to know and right now it’s nice not to have to spend _all_ of the festive season with your family.

Settling on the L shaped sofa you pull the knitted blanket over your legs and watch Yamamoto shut the living room door behind him with his foot, serving to hot plates of some katsu curry rice . . . thing. That no doubt if far better than anything you could cook, much to your mothers disappointment.

You make it to two other parties. Meeting Yamamoto in the bathroom, the back of your car and the bedroom you once called your sanctuary. In amidst the fog of parties and celebrations, he offers to drive you back while your parents fuss over other less important details.

The winter wind sneaks in, catching your breath and drawing it a foggy white as you exit Yamamoto’s truck.

“This your stop?” He asks, shutting the vehicle door with a bang.

“Yeah.” You say. The first stop of many on your journey back to the city. One bus, a cross country train and then another short bus ride back to your flat.

The snow ahead stretches for miles. Covering the road out of Namimori till all that can be seen is the grey promise of the horizon in front of you. Only the faded red truck and awkward blue bus sign to highlight any differencing change in the landscape.

“ I guess, this is where we say goodbye.” Yamamoto says, rubbing the back of his neck and giving you an unconvincing smile.

You nod, not really saying anything, but not really moving towards the single polled bus stop that marks the first leg of your departure. “Its, it’s not for another twenty minutes or so, actually.” You admit, pulling your phone out your pocket and checking the clock.

Yamamoto chuckles. “You always did like to be early.” He says, walking round to join you in front of the truck. “Remember our first date?” He asks, looking at you fondly. “You showed up like, thirty minutes early because you were worried you’d be late if you didn’t” He grins.

You chuckle too, your breath leaving a foggy trail that joins with his before disappearing into the air. “I remember. You showed up early too and we had to wait outside because our reservation wasn’t for another twenty minutes.” You smile, feeling that same silly flutter of butterfly’s set off in your chest as you look at him.

For a moment, for a brief fleeting moment, you want to ask what would have happened. If you’d stayed, if he had gone with you. But you shut your parted lips as soon as Yamamoto opens his. There’s no point on lingering on what if’s. You’d made your choice.

“You taking over your dad’s business then?” You ask, trying pointlessly to change the subject and ignoring the pull that draws you to rest back on the grate of Yamamoto Takeshis’ truck. The same pull that causes him to do the same and look up at the sky.

“Something like that.” He says. “Family business.” Is the words that seems to fall off his lips with little sound. You have no idea what it means, but as the two of you stand there, puffy jackets and thick gloves it feels like nothing else exists. A flock of birds cross the sky, an imperfect v formation as they migrate to a warmer climate. The strong push of Yamamoto’s shoulder nudges you and knocks you ever so slightly off balance as you stare at the sky.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing” Yamamoto says, letting his eyes drift away as if nothing at all happened.

You nudge him back, harder.

“Hey!” He chuckles, nudging you back with more vigour.

“Hey yourself.” You say, nudging him hard enough to knock him off the truck grate.

“That’s mean.” Yamamoto teases, stumbling back and trying to brush off your attack.

“You started it.” You grin, offering him a hand and pulling the tall dark-haired man back to the safety of the grate.

“You did start it though.” Yamamoto says, taking his position back at the front of the grate and looking at you. It’s the kind of comment that you can’t respond too, eyes trailing to your feet as a familiar silence settles in. He blows into his gloved hands and you do the same a moment later when the right words you need to reply slip through your fingers. The two of you stay like that, still and alone but together, until the dull trundle of the airport bus drones along the road.

“Ill see you-“You begin.

“Do this again next-” Yamamoto says, speaking at the same time. Stopping as he realises his mistake. Both of you laugh awkwardly, your hands mid air as you finish the expression you were doing.

It’s quiet on the bus back. He helps you load your suitcase into the side of the luggage compartment and gives you a warm smile before you leave. One hug, you allow yourself that much, but as you leave, seated at the back of the bus, you force yourself not to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tipsy and listening to evermore don't @ me


	2. Ivy

It’s a crisp winter night, the snow crunches under your boots as you bring the mulled wine out to the fire pit.

“So, you just moved here?” You ask, handing Yamamoto Takeshi a curved glass and taking one of the camper seats opposite him. It’s so dark tonight that for miles around the fire is the only light you can see. Out in the country, with the lights of the house dimmed, it’s like all that exists is the two of you.

“Yeah!” Yamamoto laughs, tilting his head. “Got a job in the area.” He says, giving you that disarming smile.

“Will you ever tell me what this magical, world traversing job is?” You ask him, fluffy gloved hands wrapping around your dark red glass.

“Mmm” Yamamoto ponders stroking his chin. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” He says, giving you a devilishly charming look.

You snort, taking a sip of your wine and feeling the warm spiced liquid coat your throat as it goes down. “Okay, Takeshi.” You say, meeting his smile with a teasing look. “You gonna take me out with a baseball or a sushi knife?” You jest.

“Oh, I’d never ruin a sushi knife like that.” Yamamoto grins, playing along. “Baseball bat for sure.” He grins, looking at you from across the fire. In the flickering light, he looks so much younger than he could be. The chances of meeting an old friend. Miles from home, twenty years on, must be so slim. Yet here he was. Wrinkled eyes and window peak hairline, but still with that same bright spark behind his eye.

“Though it would be a shame to kill such a beauty.” He follows up, not breaking eye contact as you take another tactful sip of wine.

“Married.” You remind him, wiggling the fingers on your left hand before realising they’re covered by furry mittens.

Both of you laugh, watching the clouded draw of your laughs disappear against the cold air.

“Is that why you rushed me through the house out here?” Yamamoto asks, perching his feet on the edge of the fire pit and taking a sip of his own class with something of an eased presence.

“Something like that” You tell him. The words “family business” almost falling from your lips as you want, maybe wish you could explain to him the convenience of your marriage to a well-known business mogul and your families industry. It’s not that your husband was a difficult man, nor unattractive, but you’d be lying if you said he was your first choice for marriage.

“How about you?” You ask, drastically changing the subject as you reach for the iron poker by the side of the pit.

Yamamoto sighs, taking a deep breath as he stretches out. “Nope. No ring.” He chuckles, pulling his arms behind him and yawning. It was late, but then why else would the two of you have run into each other at the only off-licence for miles around.

“No one crazy enough to marry you.” You joke, poking a charred log and letting it sink further into the fire. The smell of burning wood and warm coals mixing in the biting winter air.

“Something like that.” Yamamoto replies, giving you a devilish look.

A comfortable silence you haven’t experienced in years settles into your bones, touching the core of your being as the two of you look at each other. Fleeting glances over the fire and the warmed spiced wine, that you technically stole from you husbands cellar. To be fair, he never drank it. Always saving it for a special occasion that never seemed to come. But what was more special than a reunion with an old friend who’d moved into the neighbourhood? With the dark of the winter night, it’s impossible to tell the time. The stars only getting brighter as the two of you sit there. At some point during the night. The two of you move your seats closer, shifting to admire the glow of the rising moon.

“Would it have been different?” Yamamoto asks, breaking the silence. His words are quiet as you rest your head on his shoulder. “If I’d left with you.”

You don’t stir, a deep withheld longing finally satiated as the warmth of his skin touches yours. Maybe it’s the wine, making clear things fuzzy and fuzzy things clear but you still can’t answer that. Choosing instead to stretch out your hand to the arm of your chair. Yamamoto's joins yours. Large hands entwining with yours. “I sometimes think about . . . if you’d stayed.”

“I would have been unhappy.” You interrupt, lifting your head. “Home was never for me.” You explain, looking up at those honey-brown eyes.

An understanding smile grows on Yamamoto’s face, sad but accepting as he nods. “Yeah, you were always the best of us.” He says, squeezing your hand.

The fire dies, slow and reluctant. Burning flames dwindling to embers as the two of you whisper memories and secrets to each other like stolen words. The night seems to last forever, for hours the two of you exchange words, every shift of your body mirrored by his till the two of you are as close as two people can be on separate seats.

You shift the opposite way, feeling a kink form in your neck. Your movement met with a gentle nudge from your companion.

“Hey!” You say, shifting back the way you came. “Don’t start this again!” You warn him playfully.

“Don’t know what you’re on about?” Yamamoto replies, feigning naivety as he looks anywhere but at you.

You take it as an invitation and shove him back hard enough to rock his campfire seat.

“Hey!” He says, chuckling all the same. “I thought you said not to start this again.” He teases, shoving you back.

“Okay, but you _started_ this!” You reply, grinding your feet into the snow below you and readying to shove Yamamoto Takeshi into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incredibly un-original but I hope you like this (I'm also like five shots of "Christmas juice" deep so this has not been spell-checked and will stay that way)


End file.
